Running to Stand Still
by x0aquariusx0
Summary: He tries to remember the last time he was happy, and all he can picture is red piping on a navy blue blazer. He never would have thought that taking off that blazer would be the beginning of the end.
1. Prologue  Feb 2012

Author's Note: This is a prologue/teaser chapter. The story will be long. It will be dark and angsty and have some adult themes. Consider yourself warned. Also, spoilers up to and including 3.01 – The Purple Piano Project. Goes AU from there.

Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. I'm only borrowing them for a little while.

_Running to Stand Still_ – Prologue

**February 2012**

It's quiet.

It was loud for a while.

Sirens. Yelling. Questions.

The clink of handcuffs that barely even registered against his skin. Car doors slamming. Building doors slamming.

More yelling. More questions. So many questions.

Then, the loudest sound yet. The crash of metal on metal. Iron bars locking into place. That sound echoed for a while.

But now it's quiet.

So quiet that he can hear the drip of a leaky pipe in the corner. So quiet that the snoring from down the hall sounds close. So quiet that he can hear each one of his breaths and every heartbeat.

He stands there for a while. He's not sure how long because his watch and his cell phone are gone.

Everything's gone.

After another while, his heart starts to race. He sweats and shivers. He aches in a way that he can't quite place.

Nausea hurtles at him full force and he vomits all over his feet. He collapses to the cement floor that's just as cold and hard as it looks.

The vomiting stops, but the shaking and sweating don't. His heart pounds. He's too exhausted to close his eyes. His skin is crawling and he has to get out of here but he can't move and even if he could he wouldn't have anywhere to go.

It's so quiet.

It hurts.

He tries to remember the last time he was happy, and all he can picture is red piping on a navy blue blazer.

Blaine never would have thought that taking off that blazer would be the beginning of the end.


	2. Chapter 1 Aug 2011

_Running to Stand Still _– Chapter 1

**August 2011**

"I want to transfer to McKinley High School."

Blaine and his parents have been seated at the dinner table for less than 2 minutes when he blurts out the statement that is the reason for his rare weekday appearance.

His father stabs a piece of steak with his fork. "Why?"

The true answer (_because I love Kurt and simply can't bear being away from him_) is not the answer his parents want to hear. No, Blaine knows the answers his parents want to hear. And he's ready to dish them out. "Dalton has served its purpose for me," he begins calmly. "It's been a safe environment. I've learned a lot and appreciated my time there. But I feel that I have a lot of growing to do before I get to college, and I'm not confident that Dalton is the best place for that."

"What do you mean?" his mother asks. "Dalton is a wonderful school."

"I won't argue that. But I'd like to attend a major university in a couple of years. Dalton is small and sheltered. Going from Dalton to a large college would be a big leap. A larger school like McKinley could be the perfect stepping stone in between." (_And Kurt goes there. Did I mention that Kurt goes there?_)

His father takes a sip from his wine glass. "Perhaps. On the other hand, the major universities would favor an application from a Dalton student over a public school student, right?"

"McKinley has a solid college preparatory program. Since it's a bigger school, they offer more advanced placement classes. More than twice as many as Dalton, as a matter of fact."

"But Blaine," his mother says, "what about the bullying? You said it yourself. Dalton is safe. Do you really think a different public school would be better than last time?"

"I do. First of all, I know the students at McKinley." (_KURT!_) "They're welcoming. The school has a good grasp on getting bullying under control. Second of all, I'm older. More mature. I've learned a thing or two about standing up for myself."

Predictably, his father is the next to speak. This is like a two-against-one tennis match. "McKinley is almost half an hour away. Why not try one of the schools around here?"

"None of them have a glee club. I've really enjoyed being in the Warblers, and I'd like to be a part of McKinley's glee club as well." (_With Kurt!_) "McKinley is a school of choice, so all I need is your signature on the application that I already filled out. Plus, I checked to make sure that all of my credits transfer. They do."

"And you want to live at home again?" his mother asks.

This is the question he's dreading the most. "As long as you are both willing to have me back again, yes, I'd like to live here." It almost feels like the truth.

His father wipes his mouth on his napkin. "It seems like you've thought this out thoroughly."

Blaine nods. "I have. It seems like the best option for me."

"There would have to be a few conditions, of course," his father says, taking another sip of wine.

Blaine hides a wince. "Of course. Such as…"

"Such as you go to church with us every Sunday morning. You're home by 10:00 on school nights and midnight on weekends. You don't have any…boys," his father almost chokes on the word, "over without our permission."

"Sounds acceptable." He can worry about those later.

"Good. Well, your mother and I will have to discuss this. Give us until the morning."

"Absolutely."

The next morning, he has the signed application in his hands.

He writes the ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach off as nerves.


	3. Chapter 2 Feb 2012

_Running to Stand Still_ – Chapter 2

**February 2012**

"Blaine Anderson?"

It takes him longer than it probably should to realize that the men are talking to him.

"Let's go."

The words mean nothing to Blaine. All he can focus on is the ache in his stomach, the pounding in his chest, the way he can't stop shaking. When he doesn't respond, the two men hoist him up by his elbows.

"Kid smells like shit and vomit," one of the men grunts.

"Let's shower him before transport," the other man says.

A cramp jolts through Blaine's abdomen, and he whimpers.

"Good idea. Can you walk, son?"

They drag him between them like his feet aren't even touching the floor. They enter a small room, strip him down, and shove him under a spray of lukewarm water.

"Soap, kid," one of the men says. "Use it."

But all Blaine knows is that his skin stops crawling and the shivers don't feel strong enough to shatter bones. The water runs as he doubles over with the pain of another cramp.

Eventually, they pull him out, dry him off, and shove him into dry clothes.

Not his clothes.

His stomach twists, and the clothes aren't clean for very long.

There are handcuffs on his wrists and vomit on his skin and he can't feel worse but he does. His heart is going to explode and he's dizzy and hot and cold and everything hurts and he's terrified and he can't breathe.

He hears someone screaming.

It might be him.

Everything goes black.

* * *

><p>"Mr. Anderson?" a voice calls. "Blaine, open your eyes."<p>

He does, and a bright light crosses his field of vision.

"Pupils are still sluggish," the voice says. "Mr. Anderson, do you know where you are?"

He's in a bed. His hands and feet are strapped down. There are tubes everywhere. The voice is a doctor. Next to the doctor is a nurse.

"I don't think we're going to get much response out of him," the doctor says. "Call me if anything changes."

The doctor leaves. The nurse approaches Blaine's bed. She adjusts the blanket covering his legs. She wipes his runny nose with a tissue. "How are you feeling?" she asks.

Not good. But not the worst.

"How'd you get yourself in such bad shape, huh?"

She gently pushes one of his curls off his forehead. He trembles when the action reminds him of Kurt.

It hurts so much.


	4. Chapter 3 Sept 2011

_Running to Stand Still_ – Chapter 3

**September 2011**

It doesn't take long for Blaine to regret moving back in with his parents.

"You're going to this tomorrow," his father says, handing him a pamphlet the second he walks in the door after school on Friday.

The good mood Blaine was in disappears. He drops his backpack and looks at the paper, frowning. The familiar logo of his parents' church jumps out at him. The brochure is about a class that is going to pray the gay right out of him, or something like that. Blaine's blood pressure skyrockets, but he forces himself to remain calm. "Dad, I really don't think…"

"No discussion, Blaine. You want to live here and go to McKinley? You're going to this class tomorrow. Are we clear?"

Arguments and protests are bubbling up in Blaine's throat, but he forces them down. It's worth it. Being with Kurt is worth spending his Saturday afternoon doing the last thing in the world he wants to do. "Okay. I'll go."

His father looks slightly taken aback. Probably because in his pre-Dalton days, a discussion like this would have sparked an argument of epic proportions. "Good," his father finally says. "Glad to see you're growing up, son." He claps Blaine on the shoulder and walks away.

Blaine crumples up the pamphlet and throws it in the trash.

During the class on Saturday, he sits in the back with earbuds in his ears and music playing so loud that he can't hear anything else.

But he can still feel the hate.

* * *

><p>Things are going well at McKinley. He can get to all of his classes without getting lost. He knows which teachers are generous with hall passes. He's making friends. His relationship with Kurt is going strong.<p>

He's getting comfortable.

Which is why his guard is down when it shouldn't be.

He's alone on the stairs when the group of jocks approaches him. Football players, he guesses by their size. "Gentlemen," he says with a nod, hoping they'll let him by.

They don't.

"Hey, homo," one of the guys says with a shove to his shoulder.

Blaine mentally prepares himself for the slushy facial he's managed to avoid thus far. "Can I help you?"

Another guy laughs. "Yeah. You can tell me why you think you can just waltz in here with those crazy outfits, those ridiculous songs, dating another guy, and get away with it."

Blaine stands tall. "I think each person is allowed to date and dress however they want."

Apparently, that's the wrong thing to say.

There's more shoving. Cruel, hateful words.

But instead of a slushy facial, Blaine gets something much worse.

Two of the guys push him. Down the stairs. Hard.

Blaine almost doesn't hear the sickening crack over the jocks' laughter, but it's there. It's quickly followed by pain that takes his breath away. His vision goes black for a second. When it clears, the jocks are gone, and he's alone again, crumpled at the bottom of the stairs and in terrible pain.

He doesn't even try to move. It takes a minute or two before someone walks by. A girl. He thinks she might be in his English class.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

"No," he admits, wincing.

"I'll go get the nurse, okay? Don't move."

"Kurt."

"Huh?" the girl asks, already a few steps away.

"If you see Kurt Hummel…send him over?"

The girl nods. "Sure. Sit tight."

A minute later, Kurt comes running down the hall. It's the first time Blaine has ever seen Kurt run, and if he wasn't miserable, he might find it adorable.

"Blaine, what the hell happened?" he asks, skidding to a stop on his knees.

This is also the first time Blaine's seen Kurt potentially ruin a pair of designer pants.

The lie falls easily off his lips. "I fell."

"You fell?" Kurt echoes, looking suspicious.

"My shoes," he manages.

Kurt looks down at Blaine's stylish but not-so-practical shoes. He nods sympathetically and sighs. "The price we pay for fashion." His gaze shifts to Blaine's arm and he frowns. "Blaine…your arm…"

"I heard a snap…hurts…think it's broken."

The look on Kurt's face lets Blaine know that he's probably right.

"Just try not to move," Kurt says. "The nurse will be here soon. You'll be okay. We'll get you to a doctor and they'll give a nice hot pink cast that I'll be the first to sign, okay?"

But pink stands out, and Blaine thinks he might like to blend in for a little while.

Standing out hurts.


	5. Chapter 4 Feb 2012

_Running to Stand Still_ – Chapter 4

**February 2012**

Once, when Blaine wakes, Noah Puckerman is there. At first, Blaine isn't sure if he's real. Things have been fuzzy lately. Some things haven't been real. But when he blinks hard and opens his eyes again, Puck is still there. He's sitting in the chairs next to his bed that have been empty for days.

"Hey," Puck says.

Blaine blinks.

"How are you feeling?"

Silence.

"The nurses said you haven't really been talking much. Or, you know, at all." Puck stands. There's a Styrofoam cup of water on the table next to the bed. He holds the straw up to Blaine's lips.

Blaine takes a sip even though he knows he's just going to puke it back up later. But it's cold and tastes good, so he sips again.

"Do you know how many rules I had to break and how many lies I had to tell to get in here to see you?" Puck asks. "A lot."

Blaine takes one more sip, then turns away from the straw. Puck sets the cup down, but doesn't return to his seat.

"I wanted to see you. To make sure you're okay. I mean, I know you're not okay, but I had to…" Puck trails off.

There's a squeak of a tennis shoe scuffing against the tile floor. When Puck looks up again, Blaine sees pain in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't realize…I thought you wanted…" Puck sighs and runs one hand over his head. "I never thought this would happen to you. I'm sorry. Really sorry."

More silence.

Puck sighs. "I should take off before someone realizes that I'm not supposed to be here. Take care, okay?"

Blaine watches as Puck takes two steps towards the door, then stops. Turns. Clears his throat.

"Kurt…he misses you. A lot. You hurt him. Bad. But he misses you. I mean, we all miss you, but Kurt…" Puck shakes his head. "Just thought you should know."

Then he leaves.

And Blaine pukes water and bile and blood until tears are streaming down his face.

* * *

><p>Blaine stares at the ceiling. Sweating. Shaking. Heart pounding.<p>

Two sets of footsteps enter the room. A nurse and a police officer.

"Mr. Anderson," the officer says, "I'm here to remove those restraints."

Blaine sneezes.

The officer uses a key to unlock the cuff on his left arm first. He shakes his head. "You must know people in high places," he says as he moves to the restraint on Blaine's left leg. "People with a lot of money and good lawyers," he adds. He walks to the other side of the bed. "This is still a locked ward and you're still in hot water, so don't get any bright ideas." He removes the last cuff from Blaine's right arm. "But you don't have to wear these anymore. Let's keep it that way. Have a nice day, Mr. Anderson." The officer nods to the nurse and leaves.

Blaine immediately curls up on his left side, drawing his knees up to his chest. It should make him comfortable. It doesn't.

The nurse adjusts Blaine's pillow. "They lowered your dose today, huh? You must not be feeling very well."

Blaine sniffs. She wipes his nose with a tissue.

"I'll be right back, okay?"

Blaine's stomach cramps.

The nurse returns with a basin full of warm, soapy water and a stack of towels. She takes off his gown.

He wonders when he got so skinny.

She bathes him from head to toe. She helps him into a clean gown. Pulls him out of bed and into a chair. Changes his sheets. When she's finished, she helps him back into bed, adjusting the blanket and his IV tubing. "How do you feel now?"

He sneezes and grimaces against another cramp. He's already starting to sweat again.

She pats his arm.

"Tomorrow will be better."


	6. Chapter 5 Sept 2011

_Running to Stand Still_ – Chapter 5

**September 2011**

Turns out he broke his arm in four different places, one of which is pretty bad. He's sent home from the orthopedist with a cast from knuckles to armpit, a sling, a prescription for Vicodin, and a follow-up appointment for two weeks later.

He stays home from school for the rest of the week. He takes the pain pills because his arm hurts. It's an added bonus when he's drugged too deep to think about the assholes at school and living with his parents and if he made the right decision by transferring to McKinley.

Being with Kurt is worth it. But right now he doesn't want to think about what "it" is.

On Friday afternoon, Blaine is spaced out in front of the TV when his phone rings. "'Lo?"

"Please tell me you're feeling up to visitors today because I don't think I can stand another day without you."

Blaine pauses. "Kurt?"

"Yes, it's Kurt, who else would be? Doesn't your phone have caller ID? How are you feeling? Can I come over?"

"Yes," Blaine says, because that's gotta be the answer to one of those questions.

"Yes? I can come over? I'll be right there."

Blaine hangs up and can't remember why having Kurt over might be a bad idea.

The Vicodin makes Blaine sleepy and cuddly, which Kurt doesn't seem to mind very much. Kurt doodles on the "boring" white cast. They laugh. They make out. They talk. They make out some more.

Kurt pulls away and sits up suddenly. "Did you hear something?"

"No," Blaine groans, trying to pull Kurt back to him.

"Really. Blaine. I swear I heard…"

Then there are voices. And Blaine remembers why having Kurt over was a bad idea. His parents have been at a gala all afternoon and are supposed to be home…right about now.

"Blaine?" his father's voice echoes through the house. "Whose car is in the driveway?"

Kurt excuses himself and escapes unscathed, but Blaine isn't so lucky.

There's yelling. Lots of yelling. There's name-calling and threats and hurtful, hateful words. Blaine wants his father to hit him, but he doesn't.

They take his car keys. His cell phone. His iPod. His computer. His TV. They ground him and banish him to his room.

He spends the rest of the weekend in bed, taking too many pain pills and sleeping.

* * *

><p>He forces himself out of bed on Monday morning. Takes something that resembles a shower. Brushes his teeth. Shaves — badly. Doesn't bother with his hair. Pulls on a short-sleeved shirt because that's all that will fit over his cast. Jeans because he's lazy.<p>

His arm throbs. He grabs the bottle of pain pills.

And that's when he remembers that he can't drive. His mom is going to have to drive him. All the way to McKinley. His mom who hasn't said a word to him since Friday.

He swallows just one pill, pockets the rest, and heads downstairs.

She's standing at the kitchen counter, car keys in hand. "Ready?" she asks.

"Yeah."

They're silent for most of the ride. Then she blurts out, "Blaine, can't you…can't you just…"

"No," he interrupts. "I can't."

Can't stop being gay. Can't pretend. Can't change. Won't change.

It really doesn't matter what she was about to say.

* * *

><p>Kurt is happy to see Blaine for approximately 47 seconds. Then he's furious. "Wait, they grounded you? For being gay? They grounded you for being you? That's absurd!"<p>

"They grounded me for breaking one of their rules," Blaine corrects.

But he knows it's not the truth.

* * *

><p>"Hey, homo."<p>

The words are a low hiss and send a chill down Blaine's spine. He turns slowly. One of the football players that pushed him down the stairs is sitting at the desk next to his.

Blaine tries to slow his racing pulse. They're in a classroom. With a teacher. And other students. This guy's not going to do anything to him. Not here. Not now.

"Nice cast. Let me sign it."

Blaine swallows hard. "No."

"No?" The football player turns to make sure the teacher isn't looking. Keeps his voice low. "Do you really want the other arm in a cast? Maybe a leg, too?"

It shouldn't scare him. But it does.

Blaine holds out his arm and watches as the football player writes.

F

The guy looks up to make sure the teacher isn't watching.

A

Shoots a glance at a classmate with wandering eyes.

G

Gives Blaine's arm a painful twist when he tries to pull it away. He's not done.

G

Glares at Blaine with pure hate.

O

Checks the teacher one more time.

T

Puts the cap back on the marker. And smiles so wide it makes Blaine sick.

Blaine spends the next class period in the bathroom with a Sharpie, coloring most of his cast black.

But that doesn't change the image that's already burned into his brain.


	7. Chapter 6 Feb 2012

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who is reading this story. Thanks for taking the time to review! For anyone who hasn't figured out what's going on with Blaine yet, this chapter should answer a few of your questions. As for the rest...you'll just have to keep reading!

_Running __to __Stand __Still_ – Chapter 6

**February 2012**

"Good afternoon, Mr. Anderson. I'm Dr. Patchet. I'm the psychiatrist assigned to your case." The doctor is wearing a shirt and tie. His hair is grey and thinning. He's carrying a clipboard. "Do you mind if I talk with you for a little while?"

Blaine doesn't respond.

The guy seems to take that as an invitation and sits in the chair next to Blaine's bed. "So, you're almost done with detox. Are you starting to feel better?"

He's not sure how he feels.

"Mr. Anderson, I understand that talking can be a scary thing, but I assure you that everything you say to me will remain confidential. Would you like to tell me a little bit about yourself? About what happened to you?"

They sit in uncomfortable silence for so long that it becomes comfortable.

Eventually, Dr. Patchet stands. "We'll try again tomorrow, okay?"

Sure. Why not?

* * *

><p>"Good afternoon, Mr. Anderson. How are you today?"<p>

Dr. Patchet sits. Blaine stares off into space.

"Still not interested in speaking today, huh? How about nodding or shaking your head? Could you try that for me?"

Blaine blinks.

"What about writing? If I gave you this notepad, would you feel comfortable writing to me?" Dr. Patchet holds out his clipboard.

It goes untouched.

"You'd rather just sit here in silence?"

They do.

"I'll be back tomorrow. You should think about trying to talk to me. It's for your own good."

Right.

* * *

><p>Blaine hasn't been sleeping much. When he does, it's been in fits and starts at odd hours of the day and night. He's just barely fallen asleep when he hears someone enter the room. If it's a nurse trying to poke him or Dr. Patchet trying to talk to him, he's going to be pissed.<p>

But when he opens his eyes, it's not a nurse. It's not Dr. Patchet.

It's Kurt.

Kurt. Standing at the foot of the bed.

Blaine doesn't blink. He forces his eyes wide open. Because even though things are clearer than they were before, even though he thinks he's getting a better grasp on reality, he's not sure if Kurt is real.

"Kurt?" he asks, his voice hoarse with disuse.

Kurt doesn't answer. Just stands there, looking sad. So very sad. So very disappointed.

"Kurt? Are you…" He clears his throat. "Kurt…I'm…"

Tears threaten, and Blaine has to close his eyes because he can't break down. He can't.

When he opens his eyes again, Kurt is gone, if he was ever really there to begin with.

Blaine is wrecked.

* * *

><p>"Good afternoon, Mr. Anderson. How are you feeling?"<p>

Blaine has déjà vu.

"Why don't we talk about something simple? Why don't you tell me about school?"

School isn't simple. Hasn't been for a long time.

"No? What about something more complicated, then? Care to tell me how long you've been abusing prescription pain pills?"

Blaine can still see the sadness and disappointment in Kurt's expression.

"Want to tell me what happened the night you were arrested?"

Unshed tears burn his eyes.

"What about your parents? They've signed all your papers, taken care of everything for you, but they're never here. Why not?"

Blaine stares at the ceiling and feels his heart pound all the way down to his toes.

"Look, Blaine, I'm not going to sugarcoat this for you." Dr. Patchet sets his clipboard down and leans forward. "You're almost done with detox. You're going to be discharged from the hospital. It's up to me to decide whether you go to rehab or whether you go to a psychiatric hospital. Trust me - you want me to send you to rehab. But you have to speak. I don't care if you tell me nothing more than that the sky is blue, but you have to say something."

Blaine can't deal with this. He can't.

Dr. Patchet sighs and leans back in his chair.

"Your nurse tells me that you had a visitor today. A boy around your age. Was that your brother? Your friend?" He pauses. "Your boyfriend?"

Kurt. Kurt was here. He was real.

And now he's gone.

A choked sob escapes Blaine's lips. Hot tears roll down his cheeks. "I fucked everything up," he whispers.

The doctor nods slowly. "Okay. That'll do. Let's talk about that, shall we?"


	8. Chapter 7 Oct 2011

Author'sNote: I apologize that it's taken me so long to update! Thank you for reading.

_Running__to__Stand__Still_ – Chapter 7

**October 2011**

"Nice bowtie, freak."

Blaine doesn't even get a chance to see which jock it is before he's shoved into a row of lockers. It happens too fast to stop. Too fast to keep his face and casted arm from colliding into metal.

It only takes a second for the pain to hit, and it hits hard.

Blaine holds his breath. Turns slowly. Watches as two guys in varsity jackets high-five each other as they walk away.

He stands there, dazed, until he hears a familiar voice.

"Blaine?"

He blinks and Kurt comes into focus. Kurt who is beautiful and sweet and the love of his life.

"Why aren't you on your way to class?"

Blaine struggles to pull himself together. "Just waiting for you."

Kurt smiles. "Aren't you sweet. Come on." He shifts his books to his left arm and squeezes Blaine's cast-free hand. "You can drop me off on your way to American lit."

They walk side by side. Kurt's talking, but Blaine's barely listening. His arm _hurts_.

"Hey," Kurt says when they reach his classroom. He stops and turns to face Blaine. "Are you okay? You're quiet. And kind of pale."

Blaine forces a smile. "Yeah. I'm fine. My arm just hurts a little."

Kurt nods sympathetically. "Do you still have pain pills? You should take one."

"Yeah," Blaine nods. "Okay."

"I'll see you after class? Feel better."

One more forced smile and Kurt is gone. Blaine stops at the drinking fountain, but instead of taking one pain pill, he takes three.

Somehow it's still not enough.

* * *

><p>The paper on the exam table crinkles every time Blaine moves. His mother is sitting in the chair next to the table. He moves. Paper crackles. She glares.<p>

"Sorry," Blaine says, and tries to stop fidgeting.

It's been a little over two weeks since his arm was broken. He's here for x-rays and a check up from the orthopedist. He can't shake the feeling that it's not going to go well.

"Good afternoon," the doctor says. He walks in carrying a chart and a set of films, which he starts putting up on a light box. "Blaine, how is that arm feeling?"

"Okay," Blaine says with a one-shouldered shrug. "Still hurts."

The doctor nods and flips a switch. Three views of Blaine's arm light up. "Can't say I'm surprised. You see, these breaks in the radius and ulna," the doctor points to places below the elbow, "these are healing well. But this break here," he points to a messy place at the top of the joint, "isn't healing well at all. Actually, it looks worse now than it did before. Have you had any more falls? Bumped your arm or anything?"

"No," Blaine lies.

"Huh," the doctor says, studying something on one of the other films. "Well, in any case, I'm afraid we're going to have to do surgery to set the bones correctly."

"Surgery?" his mother echoes.

"Afraid so. We'll probably have to put in a few screws. Possibly a plate or a rod." He explains the procedure, what Blaine will need to do to prepare, what will happen afterwards. "Someone will be in touch with you today or tomorrow to schedule the procedure. Any questions, Blaine?"

Blaine starts to say no, but stops when he remembers the nearly empty pill bottle in his pocket. "Can I have a refill for my prescription? The Vicodin?"

The doctor checks Blaine's chart and pulls a prescription pad from his pocket. "Sure. And don't worry. After surgery, they'll give you something even stronger than this." He tears a page from the pad and hands it to Blaine. "I'll be seeing you soon. Call the office if you have any questions."

* * *

><p>Blaine leaves the hospital with four screws and a plate in his elbow, a brace to wear until the swelling goes and down and the incision heals enough for a new cast, and a prescription for oxycodone.<p>

His father's driving, his mother's in the passenger seat, and he's lounging in the backseat, sleepy but feeling good.

"Blaine? We're home," his father says.

"Kay," Blaine murmurs, sitting up slowly and fumbling one-handed with the car door until it opens.

"You should go straight on up to bed," his mother says. "I'll wake you when dinner is ready."

"Okay," Blaine says, already relishing the idea of more sleep. He pauses when he sees something out of the corner of his eye. "What's that?"

"What's what?" his father asks.

Blaine points. Flowers. There's a vase of flowers sitting near the door. An envelope is sticking out, and Blaine can just barely see his own name written in Kurt's neat, looping letters. Kurt got him flowers.

"Who are those from?" his father asks. Without permission, he rips the card open. The expression on his face goes from suspicious to angry to furious. He picks up the vase. Walks to the garbage can. Lifts the lid. Throws the vase, flowers, and card inside. Slams the lid back down.

"Dad," Blaine protests, but it's too late.

"Just...go," his father says tightly.

So Blaine goes.


	9. Chapter 8 Feb 2012

Author's Note: I apologize for the updating delay! Take a minute or two to flip through the past few chapters and refresh your memory. They're short chapters. Go ahead. I'll wait.

Ready?

Good. Here we go…

_Running to Stand Still_ – Chapter 8

**February 2012**

There's still a hospital bracelet on Blaine's wrist. It matches the scrubs he's wearing. The ones a nurse gave him when they realized he couldn't leave in a gown and he didn't have anything else.

Blaine is barely into the scrubs when there's a knock at the door. "Blaine Anderson?"

He looks up. Two men. Both smiling at him.

"I'm Dr. Kienan," the older of the two says. His outfit is contradictory – a shirt and tie with a pair of jeans. "I'm your new psychiatrist."

"And I'm Cale," the younger man says, wearing khakis and a polo shirt. "I'm a social worker. We're here to take you to your new home. The Bosley Rehab Center."

Oh.

A wheelchair ride takes him to the hospital exit, where he follows the unfamiliar men into an unfamiliar car. He sits in the driver side backseat, behind Dr. Kienan.

"It's about a 45 minute ride," Cale says from the passenger seat, "so make yourself comfortable. Bosley's a great place. Lots of teens your age. Lots of people who know what you're going through."

Blaine wonders why Cale thinks he, or anyone else, knows what Blaine is going through.

"Once we arrive, you'll go through the admission process," Dr. Kienan explains. "You'll be searched, get the rules, take a tour. You'll have your own room. Your clothes and belongings have already been delivered."

Blaine's mind flashes on his parents. The ones who must have executed this plan.

"You'll have your first session with me," Dr. Kienan continues, "and then you'll be given the evening to settle in. Tomorrow you'll start group activities, but we'll explain more about that during the tour."

He looks out the window at the scenery passing by. He wonders what would happen if he just opened the door. Jumped out.

But he knows he can't do that. He knows he needs to get Kurt back. And this might be the only way.

"Do you have any questions, Blaine?" Cale asks

He does, but he doubts anyone can answer them. "No," he says, his voice still hoarse.

They merge onto an expressway. Dr. Kienan smiles at him in the rearview mirror. "Okay. Sit back and relax. We'll be there in a little while."

* * *

><p>"So. Blaine. Tell me about yourself."<p>

Blaine is sitting across from Dr. Kienan in one of Bosley's therapy rooms. The room consists of an uncomfortable couch, two armchairs, a coffee table, and a set of locked cabinets. The walls are pale blue. A large window lets in light reflecting off the snow.

"Like what?" Blaine asks.

Dr. Kienan is holding a notebook and a pen. "Whatever you want to tell me."

Blaine tugs at the hospital bracelet. It won't budge. He doesn't say anything.

"Sometimes during a first session, people will tell me about their family or school. Or about why they started using drugs or alcohol. Or maybe what they're thinking about being in a rehab center."

He gives up on the bracelet and sticks his cold hands under his thighs. The movement makes a lot of noise in the silent room.

"How are you feeling, Blaine? Physically, I mean. How are the withdrawal symptoms?"

The stomach cramps seem to be gone. The dizziness, too, and the strange aches and pains. But he still sweats more than he should. Still feels anxious. Still can't sleep very much. Still has this plaguing need. Still doesn't feel normal. Doesn't know if he'll feel normal ever again. "Okay," he says.

"Good," Dr. Kienan says with a smile. "Glad to hear that."

Blaine puts his hands back in his lap and tries to unsnap the bracelet with this nails. They aren't long enough.

Dr. Kienan stands. He walks to the locked cabinets. Takes a key ring out of his pocket. Blaine watches him with careful eyes. "You know," Dr. Kienan says, "I don't usually bargain with my patients. But since it's your first day, I might bend the rules."

In the cabinet, Blaine can see a CD player. A foam ball. Tissues. Some paint and paper. Nothing that looks too terrifying.

"Ah ha," Dr. Kienan says. When he turns around, he's smiling and holding a pair of scissors. The kid-safe kind with the rounded tips. "How about I make you a deal? You tell me one thing about yourself, and I'll cut that annoying hospital bracelet off for you."

Blaine isn't sure why the bracelet bothers him so much, but it does. He nods slowly. "Okay."

Dr. Kienan walks over to Blaine and motions for him to lift his arm. "I'll trust that you're going to uphold your end of the bargain." With one quick snip, the bracelet is gone.

Blaine rubs his bare wrist. Watches as Dr. Kienan throws the bracelet in a trash can. Puts the scissors away.

He's not sure what he's going to say until the words are out of his mouth. "I'm gay."

Once the cabinets are locked, Dr. Kienan turns, but he doesn't look phased. He returns to his seat and picks up the notebook, but doesn't write anything. "You said that with confidence."

Blaine just shrugs.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"I did," he admits. The past tense stings.

Dr. Kienan nods. "How do your parents feel about you being gay?"

Blaine doesn't mean to, but he lets out a sigh. A big one.

"Sounds like that's a story for another day," Dr. Kienan smiles. "But you did well today. Would you like to go to your room? Get settled?"

He nods.

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow, Blaine."


	10. Chapter 9 Oct 2011

Author's Note: See? Told you this update would be faster! Thank you for reading.

_Running to Stand Still_ – Chapter 9

**October 2011**

The week Blaine spends at home, recovering from surgery, is insufferable. He's still grounded. Stuck in the house with his parents. All week. And while he's not looking forward to classes or seeing the guys who have broken his arm twice, Monday means _Kurt_.

He has a stack of make-up assignments that he should work on. But the oxycodone makes his brain fuzzy. He spends most of the week zoned out in front of the TV, sleeping, or counting the hours until _Kurt_.

On Thursday evening, Blaine is picking at the salmon and vegetables his mom cooked when the phone rings.

"I'll get it," she says, walking into the living room.

"Aren't you going to eat?" his father asks, nodding at Blaine's barely-touched plate.

"Not very hungry," he admits.

His mom returns, hand covering the phone's mouthpiece. "It's for Blaine," she says, but she's looking at her husband when she says it.

Blaine's heart lifts. _Kurt_.

"Blaine is still grounded," his father says before taking a sip of wine. "No phone calls."

She chews on the very edge of her lower lip. "It's a girl. From McKinley. Rachel. She just wants to see how Blaine is feeling."

Rachel? Why the hell is Rachel calling?

Surprisingly, his father wipes his mouth and nods once before saying, "Okay. Make it quick."

Blaine stands too fast and takes the phone. Once he's out of earshot, he says, "Hello?"

"Hi Blaine," Rachel's perky voice comes across the line. "How is your arm? When are you coming back to school? Did you know that…"

"Rachel," another familiar voice interrupts, "your work here is done. You can go now. Thank you."

Blaine closes the door to his bedroom and leans his forehead against the cool wood. _Kurt_.

"Fine," Rachel says with a dramatic sigh. "Bye, Blaine. Hope to see you soon!"

"Bye, Rachel," Blaine says.

"Hi."

Blaine can hear the smile in his boyfriend's voice. He can't help but smile back. "Hi."

"Sorry…I figured if I called, your parents might not let you talk. But Rachel…"

"Good idea," Blaine says, curling up on his bed. "It's so great to hear from you. I miss you."

"I miss you, too. How are you doing?"

Blaine gives a one-armed shrug. "Okay. I go back to the doctor to get a new cast tomorrow."

"How's the pain? You sound kind of drugged."

"I am kind of drugged," Blaine admits. "But I feel good."

"Well, that's good. Did you get my flowers?"

"Yes." It's not quite a lie. He did see the flowers. Right before his dad threw them away. "Thank you, Kurt."

"You're welcome. I thought roses might be too much, but carnations are just tacky, so that's why I went with daisies."

"They're perfect." Blaine closes his eyes. "You're perfect."

Kurt sighs. "God, I miss you. You'll be back on Monday?"

"Monday," Blaine echoes. He hears one of his parents in the kitchen. "Kurt, sorry, but I gotta go."

"Okay. It was good to hear your voice. See you soon. I love you."

"Love you, too."

They say goodbye, and Blaine can't stop smiling. He goes into the living room and puts the phone back in its cradle. When he turns, his father is right in front of him.

"So, how's Rachel?" he asks. There's something off about his tone.

"She's good. Just wanted to check on…" His words are interrupted by a punch to the face. Blaine gasps and clutches his cheek with his good hand.

"Don't you dare lie to me," his father growls.

"What, you were eavesdropping on my conversation?"

"My house. My phone. Not yours."

Tears burn the back of Blaine's eyes. He shakes his head and walks out of the living room.

"Strike two, Blaine," his father's voice bellows. "Strike two."

In the bathroom, Blaine's cheek is already fiery red. He uses one hand to splash cool water on his face. As he dries off, his prescription bottle catches his eye. It's not time for another pill. Not even close. But he wants so badly to be _numb_. Before he can really think twice, he swallows another pill and heads into his bedroom.

He crawls into bed fully-clothed and waits for sleep to overtake him.

* * *

><p>On Friday, Blaine's cheek is red and starting to bruise. His mom doesn't say a word about it. The doctor doesn't seem to notice it, just takes more x-rays, checks the healing incisions, and asks Blaine what color cast he would like.<p>

"Black," Blaine says,

It's the same color as permanent marker.

Before they leave, Blaine asks, "Can I have a refill of the pain medication?"

The doctor checks his chart. "You can be done with the oxycodone now. I'll give you a few more Vicodin, and by the time that's gone you'll be feeling much better."

Blaine nods, but he's not so sure.

* * *

><p>The car ride on Monday morning is long and silent. Blaine certainly isn't about to bring up anything that's going on, and that seems fine with his mom.<p>

"Have a good first day back," she says when they pull up, but she sounds sad.

"Thanks." He picks up his bag of incomplete assignments and heads into the building. He barely makes it three steps before he's mauled by a tall, thin boy with perfectly coiffed hair. "Oof," Blaine says, thankful that his bad arm missed the attack. "Hi, Kurt."

Kurt glances around before placing a quick kiss on Blaine's lips. "Hi, Blaine." He tugs at one of Blaine's loose curls. "No gel? I like it. Very Adrian-Grenier of you. And a black cast this time? How are you feeling? Did I mention that I missed you terribly?" Then Kurt gasps and lightly touches Blaine's bruised cheekbone. "Blaine, what the hell happened?"

"I walked into a door," Blaine says, offering what he hopes is an adorable smile. "I'm such a spaz."

Kurt makes a "tsk" sound. "Yes, you are. It's a good thing I love you anyway. Come on. We'll stop at your locker and then I'll walk you to class." He starts filling Blaine in on what he missed over the past week, and it's nice.

Soothing.

That is, until they approach the guys who pushed Blaine down the stairs. Blaine's heart rate picks up, but he holds his head high, determined not to let them win. One of the guys smirks at Blaine and makes a throat-slitting motion across his neck as he walks past.

Blaine feels sick.

"Blaine? Are you listening?"

"Oh." Blaine swallows hard. "Sorry. What?"

Kurt glances over his shoulder. "Did those guys say something to you?"

"No." _They didn't have to_. Blaine clears his throat. "I was just thinking, do you want to eat lunch together today?"

"Of course," Kurt says, then bites his bottom lip. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," Blaine says.

But it's a lie.


End file.
